Mothers and Martyrdom
by Trunks lil' sis
Summary: When push came to shove, in the face of danger, Carole wasn't just his father's new wife, she was Kurt's mother in all the ways that mattered.


**Mothers and Martyrdom**

Title: Mothers and Martyrdom

Author: Jen

Rating: Teen

Notes: Spoilers for all aired episodes

* * *

Kurt leaned forward in the driver's seat of his car, peering up at the dark clouds above him. Moments later his eyes flickered back to the road and he curved the pavement perfectly. A few more moments passed before his eyes were once more upward, and he frowned, trying to place the discoloration of the clouds. They didn't look as if they were about to dump water on Lima, but they were black, and menacing, and Kurt didn't like them one bit.

He was nearly home, only fifteen minutes out when his pocket began to vibrate, and taking care, he set the speaker on and greeted, "Can't go an hour without talking to me, can you?"

On the other side of the line Blaine laughed, deep and rich and in a way that made Kurt's heart beat a little faster. "Caught me there," his boyfriend said, "I'm feeling deprived. Comfort me?"

"Even for you," Kurt said, pulling to a stop at a red light, "this is a bit smothering."

Blaine responded, "You're only fooling yourself with that statement." Because they both knew the truth, and it was no great secret that Blaine liked to hover, and Kurt rather liked it when he did so. Contrary to the previous statement, there was never much smothering, but Blaine could be protective in a way that was reminiscent of Kurt's father, which Kurt was sure a psychologist might have quite a lot to say about. In the end, Kurt needed to be needed, at least when it came to Blaine, and his boyfriend had always instinctively known as much.

"What's going on?" Kurt asked, taking the opportunity to double check the backseat, making sure his recent mall purchases were still in perfect condition. He'd gone on a bit of a binge, having his father's credit card in his hands for the first time in nearly a month, and not only bought half of a new wardrobe for himself, but also several items for the house as well. "I thought you were busy studying away for your Latin test new week." Kurt gave a pause, the light changing, then said, "You'd better be. You blew me off today to study for that test."

Blaine corrected, "I didn't blow you off, Kurt. Trust me, I'd much rather be spending the day with you, in Lima, despite your father's increasingly less than subtle hints of castration towards me. My idea of fun is not studying the entire weekend."

"I told you not let me keep the condoms. My dad is nosey without meaning to be. He snoops."

"I very much doubt that it was unintentional." Blaine sighed and Kurt could hear it clearly through the speaker. "I'm taking a break from the studying. I was going to grab something in town, maybe stretch my legs, but the weather is pretty bad here."

Once more, Kurt looked to the sky. "It isn't pretty here, either. It looks like it might rain, but not really. It's just … weird."

There was rustling in the background, and it made Kurt wonder where Blain was instead. Then he said, "I think it's best just to stay inside. I'll get something at the cafeteria instead. What about you? What're you doing?"

"Just finished shopping," Kurt said, and then nearly jerked the wheel roughly as thunder roared through the air.

Blaine demanded, "Is that on your side?"

"Yeah," Kurt breathed out. "Thunder."

"That sounded massive."

Kurt found himself nodding, a hand pressed to his chest. "It was loud." Then it sounded again and Kurt just wanted to be off the road. The clouds were moving fast, swirling around, and maybe it was going to rain after all.

"Kurt? You there?"

Kurt shook his head a bit, then continued on, "I just finished shopping. I picked up some stuff for me, and some stuff for my parent's place. I noticed half the kitchen cookware was dented and damaged the last time I was home. It's hard to tell if Carole let my dad try cooking again, or if Finn got lost in the kitchen."

"That's an odd thing for you to say."

Kurt arched an eyebrow. "You don't know Finn well enough. He could get lost in his own closet."

"Not that," Blaine said. The thunder rolled again. "About what you said before that, about your parents?"

"What about them?" Kurt asked.

There was a significant pause, and Kurt knew that Blaine was choosing his words carefully. It was a nervous habit that Kurt had tried to coach him past. Situations were hardly ever as delicate as Blaine liked to believe, and Kurt was of the firm position that flowery prose did not improve an opinion.

"You call them your parents in reference to the both of them," Blaine said eventually. "And that's normal, Kurt, but your father is always your father, and Carole is always Carole."

No, Kurt decided, the sky was more greenish black, than just simply black. He'd never seen the color before, and it was distracting, keeping him from an answer to Blaine's statement. But he did manage finally, "I never thought about it."

"I know," Blaine said, the delicateness in his tone blaringly obvious to Kurt, "that your mother remains a very special person in your heart, Kurt. Is that why you call your step mother Carole?"

"It probably has a lot to do with the fact that I'm seventeen," Kurt said with a laugh. Then he glanced at his phone as it lit up suddenly, announcing a second call waiting. It was his father, and he wasted no time in saying, "Hey, Blaine, I've got my father on the other line. Can I call you back?"

"I'll call you," Blaine said instead, "later tonight. We'll talk before bed. You talk to your dad now."

There was silence, and it felt as Blaine had stopped short of saying something he wanted to, and Kurt wondered, for his part at least, if this was where he was supposed to say he loved Blaine. Because he did. It was crazy, and maybe a little weird, but he did love the boy he'd known for six short months. He loved Blaine endlessly, but he was terrified of saying it first, and of scaring him away. But sometimes, listening to the way Blaine ended their conversations, he wondered if Blaine was holding back intentionally. Kurt couldn't say for sure.

"Okay," he said awkwardly, then ended the call, and asked his father, "Yes?"

"Listen," his father said, and there was a loud whirling sound in the background, giving away his father's location in an instance. "I'm going to have to stay late at the garage, maybe just a couple extra hours. We got a few drop ins at the last second, but I should be home for dinner. Finn's with me. You'll let Carole know?"

"She's home?" Kurt asked. He'd thought she was working a double shift, and had been looking forward to having the house to himself. There was always his basement bedroom, and it remained completely untouched and his sanctuary whenever he came home, but there was something different about having an empty house. There was very little privacy at Dalton, and for Kurt, privacy was a luxury. Carole being home was a bit disheartening.

"She should be," Burt said. "She asked if she could trade shifts with someone at work, not sure who. She wanted to be home with us today before you went back to Westerville tomorrow."

And now Kurt felt guilty for wishing her away.

"I will," Kurt promised him.

He could hear Finn yelling in the background, and then his father said, "And be careful driving. It's nasty outside." As if on cue, thunder sounded.

"I know," Kurt breathed out, "but I'm almost home. You drive safe too, okay?"

There was crackling from his father's side of the phone and then he could barely hear anything. It was just as well, and he hung up the phone as his house came into view. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Kurt had only just climbed from the car, intending on gathering his purchases up when a siren sounded. He made him still, and frown, and cock his head to the side. It sounded familiar, like a distant memory, but he didn't know from where.

The thunder was gone, the wind had died down, and everything was frighteningly still.

"Kurt!"

The front door to the house flew open and Kurt barely had time to register Carole's form before she was on him.

"What!" he demanded. She had a firm grip on his hand and was squeezing too hard. He bruised easy. "What's wrong?"

She barely managed, "Come on!" before she was dragging him towards the house.

"Wait!" Kurt demanded. The siren was still going, loud and unwavering, but all he could think of was the backdoor to the Navigator he'd left open and all of his precious packages in the backseat. "Carole!"

"Now!" she commanded, and it was as stern as she'd ever been with him. It was something unexpected. Truthfully, she'd always let him have his way, never really fought him on anything, and always been the perfect picture of calm. He often wondered if she felt there was a line she had to toe with him, given his age and their newfound status as family. In any case, they were friends, but with a slight edge that tipped power in his direction. Kurt never thought to abuse it, but he kept to the knowledge that as much as his father loved Carole, there was no surpassing Kurt's place in the man's heart.

Kurt stumbled over the threshold of the doorway, and might have gone down, but then Carole was there, her free arm around his waist, hoisting him back up. They were roughly the same height, but she overpowered him in an instance, manipulating him physically in the direction of her choice.

"Stop!" he called out, trying to dig his shoes into the foyer's carpet.

Then, once more, she turned to him, and for the first time he could see the rampant fear in her eyes. Her eyes were wide, her hair mused a bit, and she was too pale. She looked to Kurt, unlike anything he'd ever seen from her before. Terror was not an expression he thought to associate with her ever, and it was numbing now to see it on her face.

"Kurt!" she snapped.

Kurt dropped the Navigator's keys on accident, and turned back for them, demanding, "I don't know what's going on, but you're really hurting me." He emphasized his point by shaking his wrist, her hand refusing to budge. "And you're scaring me!"

"The siren!" she said desperately, refusing to budge an inch with him, "listen to it!"

"I hear it!" With one vicious tug, Kurt was free, and then he was scrambling back from the woman his father loved. He was desperate to put distance between them. So desperate, in fact, that he barely noticed the rumble to the ground, or the way the thunder was back, drowning out the siren in a matter of seconds. "What's going on?"

"We have to go now!" Carole said instead, making a grab for him, Kurt barely moving out of the way. He was around her a moment later, and into the living room, the coffee table a barrier between them.

Quietly, shaking a bit, he said, "You're really scaring me, Carole." He swayed a bit, realizing for the first time the severity of the ground's movement. His mouth cracked open, and a bit dumbly he said, "The sirens-"

"Tornado!" Carole called out. She was by his side a split second later, just as the glass window behind them shattered inward, spraying them with glass.

There was a period of time that Kurt lost awareness. But when he did come to again, his faculties intact, he was laying on the ground of his family's living room, his forehead throbbing with pain, and a heavy weight stretched across him. It took a moment more for him to realize it was the weight of a body, and even longer to grasp the idea of Carole above him, shielding him carefully as debris rained down on them.

"Carole," he tried, fingers grasping at her shirt.

She shushed him, lips near his ear, and then said, "Just hold on for one second. It isn't safe to move yet." He wondered why not, but kept still, even as his head began to pound, a headache already on the way.

Before he knew it, Carole was hoisting him up, but the word was spinning around Kurt, and he couldn't find his feet. Thankfully, she was there for him, and they were down in the basement so fast he couldn't remember the walk.

"Okay," she breathed out, settling Kurt into the doorframe of the basement's bedroom, "I'm going to put you here for a minute, Kurt." He missed the warmth of her body almost immediately as she hurried further into the bathroom, pulling open cabinets.

"What's going on?" Kurt asked, his words slurring a bit.

"Tornado," she replied a bit breathlessly. Then, without warning, the electricity failed. And Carole, who'd never so much as said a bad thing about a person, was cursing very loudly.

He could feel her kneeling at his side, her fingers firm but gently on his shoulders as she asked, "Do you have a flashlight down here?" Above them the house sounded like it was being ripped from its hinges, and Kurt prayed the structure would hold.

It took Kurt longer than he'd liked to think was normal, to tell her that he had one in the bottom drawer of the bedside table.

"I'm back," she announced, and returned with a beam of light no more than a minute later. He could hear her rooting around in the bathroom once more before she settled at his side and placed a white box carefully on his lap, requesting, "How about you hang onto this for me, sweetheart." No one had called him sweetheart in over a decade.

"Carole," Kurt mumbled, feeling so cold and drained, "I'm confused."

"The siren," she said, fingers capable and confident as she popped the first aid kit open and began extracting things, "went off and I saw you in the driveway. I was so scared you'd be caught out driving. I tried … I tried to get you into the basement as fast as I could. I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Kurt asked, confused.

"I should have tried … I should have tried harder." Her voice hitched. "I should have."

Kurt hissed loud as something cold and wet was placed at his forehead. "What's that?"

"Alcohol pad," Carole explained. "You're bleeding, Kurt. You were cut by some of the glass. I can't get a good look at it right now, but I don't think it's that deep." She pressed harder at his forehead, but blew softly at the ripped skin. "I tried to protect you, but you were facing the window."

Kurt brought a hand up slowly, and almost reached his forehead before Carole caught his wrist and brought it slowly down to his lap with a shake of her head.

"Don't touch it, sweetheart," Carole said, and then there was no more conversation between the two of them as she worked.

Eventually Kurt felt soft gauze being pressed to his forehead, held in place by medical tape, and when Carole announced she was finished, he was finally able to bring his hand up to feel around the area.

"It's the best I can do," she said a be dejectedly, setting the kit aside. "It'll be good enough for now, as long as the house doesn't come down on top of us." But it sounded like the tornado had passed over them, and then moved on. The rumble was still audible, and the ground was still shaking, but not nearly as bad as it had been.

A sudden, horrible thought came to Kurt's mind and he managed, "Dad! He and Finn, they're at the shop!"

In the darkness Carole moved around, and Kurt could only track her by the beam of light from the flashlight. "The phone is down," she informed, "and good luck finding my cell phone." Kurt's own phone was still in the Navigator. Of course Kurt didn't even want to think of the damage that had probably been incurred on his baby. "And it still isn't safe to go check just yet. We'll have to wait."

Kurt let her move him across the room to the foot of his bed, and though they didn't sit on it, they settled on the soft carpet of Kurt's room, with their backs to the bed. Carole's arm was warm and secure around his shoulder and she pulled him in close, letting him rest against her. She asked, "How are you doing?"

"Still scared," he answered honestly.

She promised, "That's okay." Then her hand was stroking at his hair, lulling him towards drowsiness. And he felt so protected, so sheltered and so loved, that he let himself fall.

He came to when he felt a chaste kiss to the side of his head, and whispered words, "I'm so sorry."

Kurt groaned, his body aching, then he asked, "Carole? Who're you talking to?"

"No one," she denied. Her arm was still around him, and he was pressed solidly against her side. "No one, sweetheart. Are you feeling any better? I think it's safe to go up now." She got slowly to her feet, and the first thing that Kurt noticed as that it was that there was a stream of light in his bedroom. The basement only had two, small windows, but from his position on the ground Kurt could see an almost blue sky. He wanted to laugh.

"Can you help me up?" Kurt asked, and then took her hand when she offered it to him. But then they were hugging, and Kurt just needed her. He need to hold her close, and know that she was alive, and with him, and that she'd protected him, and taken care of him.

"Kurt?" she asked quietly.

"I'm okay," he promised, arms around her neck tightly. "I'm okay, Carole."

Together they walked the stairs to the first floor and when Carole pulled on the door it refused to budge. She pulled harder, and then remarked, "I hope there's something up there left." Kurt could only shrug. "And I don't suppose there's a second way out of the basement?"

At that, Kurt shook his head. "The windows," he said, "but they're too small for either of us to fight through."

"Okay." She sunk slowly down sit on the steps. "Then I guess we wait. Your father will be fine, Kurt. Finn, too. And once the danger is gone completely, they'll come right here. They'll get the door open and we'll be fine. We just have to hang on for a little bit."

Kurt sat next to her, a few steps down, and hugged his knees to his chest, releasing a deep breathe.

"At least we have each other for company," she said a bit cheerfully.

At that, Kurt looked to her, and admitted, "I talked to dad just before getting home. I was … I was excited I was going to have the house to myself for a while, and then disappointed when I found out you were here. I'm sorry. I-"

"Hey now," she said, a soft hand framing his face for a moment. "That's nothing to feel bad about. Everyone likes their privacy. There's no shame in that."

"There is," he insisted. "I wanted to be alone for purely selfish reasons, and now that this … that this happened … I couldn't have done it, Carole. I couldn't have been okay by myself."

"Sweetheart," Carole said quietly, her hand resting at the back of his neck. "it's my job to take care of you. And it's something I enjoy. You're … I love you, Kurt. I will always be here for you, in any way that you want me to be, or for however much you need. I know, you're seventeen, you're almost a man, and you don't need me coddling you, but in these kinds of moments, I don't think any of that matters."

Tongue feeling dry in his mouth, Kurt added, "Blaine said something funny to me earlier today. I blew him off then, but now I'm starting to think there was so merit to his observation."

"Hmm?" Carole asked. Her fingers were rubbing soothingly at the back of Kurt's neck.

"He said I always talk about you and dad as my parents," Kurt revealed, "but I never call you my mom."

Carole laughed softly, her fingers stilling. "I hope you don't think that hurts my feelings."

"Well," Kurt said a bit anxiously.

Carole frowned a little. "Kurt."

Kurt fidgeted, then said, "It's just, well, Finn, whether he's willing to admit it or not, is really starting to think of my dad as his own. We had a talk last week, and aside from it being very uncomfortable and awkward, it was also pretty informative. He wanted to know if it would ever be okay to call dad that. Finn wants to call him dad, and I guess he wanted to get my permission or something. But it made me think, Carole. It made me think that Finn wants to call him dad, but I don't want to call you mom."

"Sweetheart." Carole shook her head a little. "Finn's father died when he was still a baby. Finn never knew him as anything more than a name and a picture. He doesn't have memories of him. It's understandable, right? Burt is a very good father, the best, and I can't imagine that Finn wouldn't want to call him by that title."

"But-" Kurt started.

Carole finished, "But you, Kurt, you remember your mother. Sure, it's been a while, and the memories have started to fade a little, or maybe not all the details are still there, but you remember. You remember what she looked like, what she smelled like, the things she liked and didn't like, what the two of you would do on Saturday afternoons, birthdays, holidays, and everything else. She's your mother Kurt. It doesn't really matter if she's with you now, or if she's passed on. A mother never really leaves you."

"You married dad," Kurt mumbled.

"I love him very much, Kurt," Carole assured him. "And I love you. I think of you as my son as well. I would do anything for you, Kurt." And she had, Kurt remembered. She'd tried as hard as she could to get him in the basement, and when they hadn't' quite made it fast enough, she'd shielded him. She had thrown her own body over his, and done everything in her power to keep him safe. "But I am not," Carole said definitively, "trying to replace her in your heart."

Kurt felt unable to speak.

"I could never," Carole assured, "take her place. I'm not her, Kurt. She was your mother, and that's a spot that will never be filled by anyone, at any time. That's the way it should be. I'm just looking to have a place next to that. You don't have to call me mom. You don't have to think of me as your mother, even a surrogate one. I just want you to know how much you mean to me, and that I love you."

Tears pricked at Kurt's eyes and he sniffled, turning into her side and hugging her tightly.

It was hours before help came, but like Carole had said, just as the sun was starting to dip in the horizon, and Kurt was starting to fear the creeping darkness, he could hear his father's voice. There was banging on the door, and then shouts. Just after that Kurt was encased in his father's strong grip, nearly dangling above the ground. His head ducked under his father's and he breathed in deeply. He felt home.

He did have to go to the hospital for several stitches, but it was all very surreal to him, traveling through Lima's destroyed streets in the back of his father's pickup truck, Carole squished to one side of him and a scared looking Finn on the other.

There were calls to make, to friends and to Blaine, and to family in other parts of the state, but by nightfall Kurt was too tired to do anything but curl up on a hotel bed, three cities over, and try an get some shuteye. He could feel Finn curled up next to him on the large bed, nearly draped over his back, sleeping already and breathing heavily. And across the room he could make out the shapes of his father and Carole talking quietly.

In the morning he was woken by the feel of a hand on his forehead, carefully probing his injury. He blinked his eyes open and took in the sight of his father kneeling next to the bed.

"Hey, kid," his father said, voice barely a whisper. "Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay," Kurt promised, making no attempt to move. He didn't think he could. Sometime during the night Finn had moved even impossibly closer, and now his arm was snaked around Kurt's waist. It was a bit uncomfortable, and it would be interesting when the taller boy woke, but for the moment, it was fine.

His father seemed to sense his thoughts of Finn, because the man said, "He was pretty worried about you and Carole. I wouldn't be surprised if he's a little overprotective for a while."

Kurt reached a pale hand out to his father and then squeeze the bigger fingers tightly. "I'm okay," he swore. "Carole … dad … she kept me safe. She protected me."

"I know," Burt said kindly. "I knew she would. Why do you think I married her? I knew, Kurt, I knew I could trust her with you."

"Where is she?" Kurt asked.

His father carefully tucked Kurt's hand back on the bed and then stood to his full height. "She went out for coffee and doughnuts. She'll be back soon. I think she sensed I didn't want to leave you, so she volunteered to go."

Kurt smiled. "That's nice of her."

Burt urged, "Try and catch a few more minutes of sleep. I'm going to take a shower."

Behind him, Finn's arm tightened around Kurt, and Kurt did as his father said, closing his eyes and falling back asleep.

Contrary to what he thought he'd feel the previous night, by the time Carole came back with breakfast, and Finn was awake enough to constantly babble apologizes to Kurt, he actually felt happy. He and his father and Finn and Carole crowded around the hotel's tiny table and gorged themselves on breakfast.

Carole pushed a second doughnut to Kurt, Finn already working on his third, and insisted, "Eat, Kurt. We've got a long day ahead of us." And even though he wasn't hungry, and could do without the calories, he ate it, because Carole was smiling at him, and it made him feel better when she did.

It was then, Kurt realized, pushing his father's cup of decaf towards the man and sliding his own, regular away, that Carole was a lot like the glue that held them together. He and his father had been okay before her, but with her, and with Finn, they were even better. She was a lynchpin in a lot of ways, and without her, they'd probably come undone, and go back to how careful they'd had to be with each other before. Carole had brought with her a sense of ease to their relationship, and more comfortable familiarity. She'd softened them in a way, and truly, without meaning to, she'd been a mother long before anyone had asked it of her.

So maybe he couldn't call her mom at the moment, and there was a chance he wouldn't ever be able to, but when he looked at her, he saw his mother. He saw her kindness, and her protection and her love. It could be enough, he was sure. It could be just right.


End file.
